I have. I drift in and out of consciousness, not knowing how much time is passing. Not knowing if Zoë is alive or dead.
My mind springs back to life when the monotone beep suddenly changes its rhythm. It becomes sporadic, yet even, sounding life flowing within her body. Relief floods me.
The medical team shuffles around her, most of the staff returning to their own patients. When enough of them clear out of the way, I gasp as I get a better look at Zoë.
Blood is smeared around her face and neck. The shoulders of her hospital gown are drenched in it. The nurses clean her face with a wet towel and change her gown.
Something awful has happened to Zoë, but she is alive. She’s being well cared for.
I stop fighting my weakness and let myself fall under the veil of sleep.
34. THE FIRST DAY
Sometime later, I awaken, feeling slightly refreshed yet somewhat disoriented. I’m no longer in the pod room, but instead in an area that feels more like a hospital suite. I reach my hand up and feel for the pendant around my neck. It lies exactly where it should, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. I stir audibly in the bed and a stout, middle-aged nurse walks over to me.
“Well, hello there,” she says cheerily with a southern accent. “Welcome to the recovery room. I’m Susan.”
I try to speak but notice the dry burn in my throat again. I manage to whisper, “water?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Just a little at first.”
She reaches for a plastic pitcher on a wheeled end table next to the bed and pours its water into a small white cup. “You’ll have to suck it off this small sponge. Kind of like a lollipop.”
She holds up a short white stick with a rounded pink sponge attached to the end. She dips it into a glass of water then holds it in front of my mouth. I reach up to take the stick and cautiously place it in my mouth, wincing at the odd taste and texture.
“I know it’s kind of strange, but you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while. We have to make sure its safe to let you try again.”
I suck the sponge dry and relish at the cool trickle of water down my throat. The burn of my swallow makes me grimace. “Can I have more?”
She takes the sponge and dips it again before handing it back to me. I repeat the process six times before my throat begins to feel normal again. “Ready to try a straw?” she asks.
I sigh in relief. “God, yes.”
As she walks to the other side of the room to get me a straw, I am suddenly flooded with terrifying memories of Zoë laying in the pod next to me, covered in blood, her heart not beating. “Where’s Zoë?” I ask, panicked as Susan returns to my bedside.
“She’s in another recovery area. We had to move her to a higher level of step-down care.”
“Is she okay? She was covered in blood. Her heart stopped beating.”
“She’s stable. She was bleeding from her nose quite a bit. They had to perform a special procedure to stop the bleeding. She’s had a few blood transfusions and she’s under observation now. She’s still pretty out of it from the sedation.”
“So she’s okay?”
“She seems good. They’re hopeful she will make a full recovery.”
She drops the straw into my water and holds it steady for me to take a drink. “Start small, sweetie,” she recommends as I sip gently at the water. The last remnants of the unbearable dryness fade away.
“What about Charlie?” I ask her.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah, Charlie Parrish. I think he’s here too. He was there with us. He’s a good friend of mine.”
“I don’t know if we have anyone here by that name, but I can check for you.”
I sip again at the water. “Do you know how long we were gone?” I ask her.
She hesitates, seemingly unsure if she should answer. “Forty seven days.”
My mouth drops open. I’m stunned and confused. “That’s crazy. It felt like just a few hours.”
“Quite a few people who have gone on extended walks experience that phenomenon.”
I try to remember what the date was when we climbed into the pods. “What’s the date today?”
“December 10th.”
December! “What was the day we went into the pods?”
“October 14th.”
My mind is a swirling mess of dates and events. My breath catches when one date in particular stands out. November 12th.
“What's wrong sweetie?” she warmly asks